How to: Bake cookies with your parabatai
by Roonilwazlibross
Summary: Modern!AU. Will's bored on a Sunday morning, and Jem's acting strange. Jem suggests they bake cookies. What could possibly happen? Pure fluff
1. Step 1: Persuade your parabatai

Hey there, nice to meet you! :D

My name's Roonilwazlibross, and this is my first FF story! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer- I do not own any of these characters, Will, Charlotte, Henry, the Lightwoods, Jessamine, Sophie, Cecily, and Jem (unfortunately) do not belong to me. Please don't sue me; I don't have any money

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**Chapter 1**

Jem is looking at me.

Which in most circumstances would be perfectly normal. We're parabatai, after all. We're supposed to keep an eye out for each other.

But the boy's been looking- no, not looking, he's been_ ogling_ me for the past hour. I can feel his silvery eyes burning holes in my flesh.

I mean, it was rather flattering at first, but now it's beginning to get kind of annoying. And kind of unnerving.

We're sitting in Charlotte's living room on a normal, if not boring, Sunday morning. Charlotte and Henry are out, attending a Shadowhunter gathering that we weren't invited to. Jessamine left around an hour ago to go shopping for clothes, and the Lightwood brothers took Sophie and Cecily out to go see a movie.

I'm sprawled out on the lumpy green couch in the living room, my long legs tangled in the ugly yellow blanket Jessamine knitted Charlotte for her last birthday. My black hair is tousled, my flannel pajamas are mussed, and I probably smell terribly of morning breath. The sagging arm of the couch serves as my backrest, and the silver laptop Jem and I share rests in my lap.

Jem sits on the overstuffed armchair next to me, innocently pretending to read a book, whose title I can't see at this angle, while glancing over the pages at me. A small smile plays over his thin lips. His silvery hair, (the unusual color a side effect of the drug that's keeping him alive,) is neatly combed, and unlike me, he had the energy to change out of his pajamas into a green T-shirt and a pair of slim black jeans.

The laptop begins to burn my legs, and I scowl, shifting my position on the couch. From the corner of my eye, I notice Jem still looking at me, (why is he doing that?) and I feel an unexpected blush creeping up my neck for some reason.

I peek back at Jem, and see he's still staring.

"Is there a pimple on my nose?" I ask, half-wondering if there really is something on me that Jem's unable to look away from.

"Oh, no."

"What is it, then? Do I have blue skin? A second head? Did Jessamine draw on my face while I was sleeping?"

He chuckles, his laugh sounding like softly chiming bells.

"No, nothing of that sort."

A few seconds of silence.

"You know, it's quite rude to stare." I say pointedly.

Jem's almond-shaped eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins.

"I'm sorry," he says lightly, leaning back into the chair. He closes the book he was reading, and I could finally make out the cover.

"'101 Pastry Recipes'!" I sit up straight, letting out a shout of laughter. "Why on earth are you reading a book on pastry recipes?"

He shrugs, that small smile still lingering on the edge of his mouth. I'm still laughing.

"I swear, James, the next thing we know you'll be off sewing teddy bears, or playing dress-up, or something of the sort! Are you planning on being a cupcake chef when you grow up? You're probably gonna ask the whole household to bake cupcakes with you!"

He stands up, brushing imaginary lint off his jeans. He looks oddly nervous.

"Well actually, um, if you like, instead of cupcakes we could bake some cookies," Jem stammers. "The two of us. For fun. Right now. If you're hungry... I mean, if you don't have anything else to do..."

Why's he acting so weird all of the sudden?

"Okaaaay," I say slowly, closing my laptop. "I am kinda hungry, and I was craving something sweet anyway."

Jem beams.

I stand up and look into his eyes. "Are you alright? You're acting a bit strange."

"Wha- No I'm perfectly normal!"

"You're not going to put salt or rat poison or something into my batch, are you?"

"Of course not!"

He's still smiling that grin, and I'm still suspicious, but I follow him into the kitchen.


	2. Step 2: Gather ingredients

Hey guys, thanks for the reviews and favorites! I honestly didn't expect any; this is my first fanfiction story EVER, and I just hope it's okay! Anyway, just to clear up a few questions...

Tessa Gray never happened. She never existed in this fanfic setting

The setting's an alternate universe, so nothing in the Infernal Devices ever happened, I'm just using Cassandra Clare's characters. (Another disclaimer- I do not own any of these characters)

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(PS, I also just want to thank my friend Huaile for writing a fanfic starring me and Jem! It honestly made my entire day. She's a million times better at writing than I am, so check her out!)

Okay, let's get started! ^_^

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**Chapter 2**

"Okay," I say, standing in the middle of Charlotte's metallic, sterile kitchen. "What are the ingredients?"

I turn around as I ask the question and see Jem leaning over the aluminum countertop of the island, with that goddamn, pink-covered 101 Pastry Recipes book propped up against the salt shaker.

"Sorry?" he says, shaking his silky silver hair out of his eyes as he turns to look up at me, and I never really realized how attractive Jem looks at this angle, with his hair in his face, and his mouth slightly open, and his silvery eyes so wide and dark-

"I said, what are the ingredients we need to make these cookies?" I shake my head a bit in an attempt to clear my head a little, because what were those thoughts running through my mind just moments ago? What was wrong with me today?  
"Oh, we need just some basic stuff," he says, running a slim finger down the recipe. "Flour, baking soda, baking powder, butter, white sugar, eggs, and some vanilla extract."

As he read down the list, I was rummaging through the cupboard.

"Okay, we have the flour, baking soda, baking powder, butter, sugar, and the eggs, but I can't find the vanilla."

"Oh no," Jem says, walking around the island and standing next to me. This close, I can smell his scent, a combination of burnt sugar, laundry detergent, and rosemary. I close my eyes for a brief second, hyper-aware of how close he is to me.

We try to find the vanilla extract together, and as we search the cupboard, our hands brush against each other, causing me to flinch back.

"Are you okay?" he asks, probably wondering what my problem is.

"Yeah, yeah, totally fine." I answer back quickly. I'm wondering the same thing.

Jem is my_ parabatai_, for God's sake. When and why did I ever start feeling electrical bolts of energy when our hands touched, or when he stands so close to me? Wasn't I feeling annoyed merely 10 minutes ago when he wouldn't stop staring at me?

_What is my problem?_

"Aha!" Jem, announces, startling me out of my troubled thoughts. "I found the vanilla!"

"Where?"

"Up there."

He's pointing to the highest shelf in the cupboard, so high that we'll need a tall chair to stand on in order to reach it. I spot a small brown bottle with a green label that reads, "Grandma's Best Vanilla Extract", perched on the edge.

"Of course," I mutter.

All of the sudden, Jem gets down on his hands and knees.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"Here, stand on my back and reach for the bottle."

"What? Why? I can just pull up a chair from the living room!"

Jem looks up at me with his silver eyes and my heart skips a beat. No, wait, it didn't. Maybe if I keep on denying what's going on with me, then these weird feelings will go away.

So I definitely _did not_ blush when Jem says in a voice lower than usual, "Why? You can't handle me?"

I most definitely _did not_.

"Shut up," I growl. "Get back down."

I hoist up my left foot onto his slender back. Uncertainly, I bring the rest of my body up, and sway back and forth gracelessly while I try to find my balance.

Quickly, I reach upwards towards the vanilla bottle, desperately trying to grab it before I fall down and possibly break my neck.  
My hand is almost there, almost, almost, when suddenly Jem lets out a huge gust of air and I know he's going to collapse.

With one more swipe of my hand, I stretch up and (_yes!_) the bottle's in my hand, and then I'm falling, landing right on top of Jem.

For several seconds, we're just a tangle of long limbs, and it takes a moment to sort ourselves out. I find myself in a rather compromising position, me straddling his narrow hips and him right below me.

Is it my imagination, or are Jem's pupils blown up, so dark that I can' t see the silvery parts of his eye? And am I imagining the tiny hitch of breath that he takes as he realizes how I'm sitting on him?

But I am _definitely not_ blushing, and I am _definitely not_ feeling the blood rush to my head when I see Jem lick his lips, his pink tongue slowly moistening his soft mouth.

No. No, stop thinking about that.  
I cough and clear my throat, the small noise shattering the moment.

"I got the vanilla," I announce, holding up the bottle as if it wasn't obvious.

For a split second, he's still looking at me with that wide-eyed stare, but the moment passes and he shakes his head rapidly.  
"Ah, I see you did," he grins, seemingly back to normal.

But I'm still shaken. What is going on? Why am I suddenly feeling like this?


	3. Step 3: Mix everything together

**Hi everyone, sorry I didn't upload for a while, I've been kinda busy. Thank you all for the kind reviews so far! I don't really think this story's good anymore, though. Do you think I'm dragging it on for too long? Anyway, let's go!**

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I had tried to deny the feeling, but I when I meet his steady gaze, I realize that the truth was inevitable. I don't remember ever feeling this attracted to anyone in my entire seventeen years of existence.

His silver, wide-spaced eyes are a darker shade than I've ever seen them, and my fingers are aching to run themselves through his soft, downy hair. However, the main part of him that I'm focusing on is his mouth. It's light pink, with a thin upper lip and a fuller lower lip, still shiny from when his tongue slid over it, and _crap_, he's doing it again, his tiny pink tongue darting out to snake over his lips.

At that moment, I know I'm screwed.

Jem Carstairs! I'm sexually attracted to _Jem Carstairs!_ My _parabatai _and a fellow male! Am I _gay_? By the Angel, he's making me have an identity crisis on the kitchen floor, I-

"Um, Will?"

With a jolt, I realize that I'm still straddling him on the Charlotte's marble floor. He stares as I quickly roll off him and jump back up. A smile plays on the corners of his mouth, so small I almost missed it.

"Will, are you okay?"

No, I wasn't "okay"! I have just accepted the fact that I find my best friend super hot and attractive and that I want to kiss him until his lips are numb! This situation is _far _from being "okay"!

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's bake some cookies."

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"Okay, so the recipe says to preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Can you do that while I mix together the ingredients?"

I nod, and walk over to turn the knob on the oven. I turn back to see Jem pouring in the flour and baking soda, a look of adorable concentration on his face as he measures out the right amount to put in. I go back to him and grab the sugar, butter, and the egg. I mix the ingredients together in one of the colorful plastic bowls Charlotte keeps in her cabinets.

While I'm mixing, I sneak secret glances at Jem. He has a blissful smile on his face as he combines the flour, baking soda, and baking powder together. I feel an answering smile stretch across my own face.

Who knew he liked baking so much? He's so cute. A hot blush creeps up my neck a second after the thought pops up in my mind. I sigh, and turn back to the bowl, beating in the egg and the vanilla.

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Jem and I combine the mixed ingredients, producing a huge, pale dough ball.

"It's beautiful." Jem jokes, as he pats the monstrous lump of dough tenderly with one hand, wiping an imaginary tear out of his eye with the other.

I smile, gazing down at the dough with admiration. Then I put on a face of mock alarm.

"Jem, I think I see an eggshell in the dough!"

"What?" he frets, hunching over his precious dough glob, searching for that dratted piece of eggshell that wasn't actually there. In a smooth motion, I plant my hand on the back of his head, and smash his face into the bowl.

"Ha!" I cackle, my laughter filling up the kitchen. I release his head, and Jem emerges, his face covered in dough paste and residue flour.

"Will, I hate you!" he yells, though he's laughing. All of the sudden, he reaches down to the counter and grabs a handful of baking soda, throwing it at my face.

"Hey!" I shriek, shaking out my hair so that white powder flies all over the kitchen floor. Jem laughs harder at that, and his laughter makes my chest feel tight and I have to physically fight the urge to walk over to him right at that moment, grab his face in my hands, and kiss him. But I can't do that, because he's _Jem_, and he's too good for me and I know he doesn't feel the same way.

I grab a piece of butter and fling it at his face. At the same time, he snatches a handful of sugar and tosses it at my chest.

And then we're shouting and laughing and howling, throwing various baking ingredients at each other until we both resemble furry white yetis from the Himalayas.

And after the Great Food Battle is over, and Jem makes me help him clean up the kitchen before Charlotte comes home and has a heart attack, I sneak more secret glances at him, admiring the way the white flour settled on his hair like snow, the way his long elegant fingers delicately pick off eggshells from the floor, and the smear of butter that is still on his face, dangerously close to his mouth. I have to force down the urge to walk over to him and wipe it off with my lips.


	4. Step 4: Bake and Enjoy!

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as Jem glances hurriedly down at his watch.

"Oh! Hey, we gotta hurry and shape the cookies and get 'em into the oven before the dough gets stale."

We head over to the large dough monstrosity sitting on the table. Jem grabs a handful of the hardening dough, rolling it in his palms and flattening it into a perfect circle. I take a handful of my own, and begin crafting my masterpiece.

Five minutes later, Jem glances over from his army of immaculate, circled cookies over to my work pile.

"What in the name of the Angel is that?" he laughs, pointing at my creation, which is _obviously_ sculpted into the shape of a dog.

"It's a dog! Can't you see?"

"Hm," he tilts his head to the left. "It looks more like a fat man on stilts. Or a duck."

"Oh, shut up!" I cry, running over and smacking his arm not-too gently. "No one insults my work of art! Or brings up the topic of ducks!" I then start slapping his other arm.

Halfway through being abused by me, Jem blushes a furious crimson color. He raises his head so that his face is mere inches from mine.

"You know," he whispers. "You're so cute when you're angry."

"Huh?"

He leans over and softly presses his mouth to mine.

It's sudden and quick, and I'm too shocked to pull , I lean forward and taste his scent, a mixture of burnt sugar and rosemary. I feel his mouth curve into a smile underneath mine, and he pulls away briefly, leaning his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes. Silver against blue.

"Will," he breathes. "William. Do you- I mean-"

"Oh my God," I groan. "Shut up, Jem Carstairs. I _like_ you. I really, _really_ like you, and I've been wondering if you like me the same way for a while, so _please_ shut up and kiss me."

He beams, his smile lighting up the entire kitchen and momentarily blinding me.

"Okay."

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"How are they?" Jem asks, his silver eyes wide open and questioning.

After making out for several minutes, he had insisted on putting the cookies in the oven, resuming what we left off while they baked. They had just come out of the oven, hot and fresh, and we settled down on the sagging couch together to eat them. Jem forced me to have the first bite, and I willed myself to choke it all down.

"It's..." I pause, looking at his ridiculously hopeful face. Crap, I couldn't tell him the truth. "...good?" I finish, the sentence sounding more like a question than a compliment.

He cheers, and reaches out to sample one on his own. I roll my eyes. _What a dork_, I think fondly to myself.

Jem takes a huge, enthusiastic bit, and promptly begins to cough and spits out his mouthful.

"Oh my God!" he sputters, "that's _disgusting_! Will, you actually _like_ this?"

I laugh and pat his head.

"No," I admit. "I actually hate it and I think it's the worst thing I've ever had the misfortune to taste. But I didn't want to make you feel bad."

He beams.

"What made you want to bake all of the sudden, anyway?"

"Well," he replies slowly, his grin growing mischievous. "I read somewhere that a sure-fire way to win a women's heart is to bake her something. Women love men who can bake. I thought that maybe I'd have a go at it to try and woo you over."

"Excuse me!" I cry out, affronted. "Are you implying that _I'm _the women in this- relationship-thing we've got going on? Because I know all about your secret stash of romance novels you keep under your bed!"

His grin turns into a mask of horror, his face growing red.

"Wha- how do you know about that?"

I smile and lean towards him.

"That's a secret," I say, silencing his protesting mouth with a kiss. By the Angel, I love baking.

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**Hey guys, so it's finally over! I'm so sorry; it's really awful, but I'll try harder next time! I hope you guys can forgive me for posting so irregularly! Goodbye! ^-^**


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